My Shirt
by themarchgirl
Summary: ‘Your shirts look better on you,’ She'll always be his. H/Hr, slight R/L. Rated for themes and language.


**A/N: **If any of you are Brother Sister readers, I have writers block! I honestly have no clue what to write. But I will hopefully think of something. Anyway, I haven't written Harry Potter for a long time, so here we go!

* * *

Harry cursed as he tried to unsuccessfully Scourgify the kitchen counter.

'Come on, come on!' He muttered, trying desperately to remove any evidence of last night's Chinese takeaway food fight he'd had with Ron. Hermione was going to be here any minute, and she would give him a lecture on keeping his and Ron's flat presentable for any visitors. It was not pleasant being on the receiving end of that.

He eventually managed to make the kitchen spotless, and he levitated the newspapers on the settee into a neat pile by the armchair quite easily, thanking his lucky stars (for once) that Hermione tried to sleep at work sometimes. He went into his bedroom and made sure the bed was made and there were no boxers lying around waiting to be discovered. He then banged on Ron's door and yelled 'Hurry up! She'll be here soon!' through it. There was a grunt of acknowledgement and Harry prayed that Ron would be reasonably dressed. Last time he'd been here he hadn't worn a shirt, and Hermione had fainted at Ron's annoyingly toned chest.

Harry had tried and tried to tell himself that he was _not _in any way in love with his best friend, but the thought of Hermione lusting after Ron (_again_) made him see red. He was so bloody jealous that he sat and sulked for days, in a way that would make Dudley proud.

He began to pace in front of the TV, hoping that Hermione had brought no work with her, because she was terrible when she had work. All irritable and bossy and very distracted. He also hoped that Hermione would not start bickering with Ron, because then they got closer and closer together and-

-and Harry would not finish that sentence, because it was too disgusting for words to see his best friends swapping spit like nobody's business.

Harry tried to calm his nerves, but nowadays any kind of mention of his female best friend would get his heart hammering and his hands shaking, because he always managed to do or say something embarrassing when he saw her. It was torture to have to sit next to her and not stare at her like he was a goldfish. It wasn't very attractive. Hermione often didn't notice, though, because she was too busy staring at Ron, giggling and twirling her hair.

They'd gone out and broken up seven times so far, and each time they would argue and argue until the passion broke loose and they'd have fantastic make-up sex on their living room floor.

'It's _the _best shagging I've ever done,' Ron had told him once. 'Fast and hard and damn good.'

Harry had feigned a sudden urge to go to the bathroom to puke and the only reason he'd been crying was because everyone cries when they throw up, don't they?

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts by Ron coming out of his room in one of Harry's shirts, drying his hair with his wand like he wore Harry's clothes every day.

'Er, Ron,' Harry said, pointing at the blue-and-black-striped shirt. 'That's mine.'

'You don't mind me borrowing it, do you?' Ron said, an easy, cheeky grin adorning his face. 'I wanted to look good for Herms.'

'Well, no, but-'

The doorbell rang. 'Ooh, that's her.' Ron interrupted, striding to the door.

'-it would have been nice if you'd asked me first.' Harry finished, sighing and turning his attention to the door, where Hermione was just coming in, Ron taking her coat and hanging it on their coat-rack. Hermione smiled at him and he grinned back, trying not to show how beautiful he thought she was. Her hair was straight now, flowing down her back nearly to her waist. Ron had convinced her to try a new look, but Harry preferred it curly.

_Crazy, rough kisses, given and taken under the covers of a bunk bed in a tent somewhere in the Midlands. Comfort kissing, his hands buried in her hair, her hips pressing against his, their mouths smashing together in an uncoordinated dance-_

They had a history, but she had long forgotten it. Harry remembered how after Ron left there was this _thing_ between them, building and building and then he snapped and kissed her, and...other things.

* * *

Hermione had brought her work notebook with her, to Harry's dismay, but she was in a good mood because she was sure she was going to be promoted. Harry congratulated her, and so did Ron, who gave her a kiss on the cheek. Harry's insides boiled but he kept a fake smile on his face.

Hermione used to notice when he was hurting. She was too in love with Ron to even care now.

Sometime during the night, after they'd devoured Harry's shepherd's pie, Ron had put on some music and asked Hermione to slow dance. Harry had offered to wash up, and since no one else wanted to help, he hurried in the direction of the kitchen sink, his back to the swaying couple. He washed every fork and knife violently, trying to stop the tears brimming in his eyes from falling. His chest was hurting and he hated that he couldn't tell her how he felt, and that Hermione was head over heels for a big-headed obnoxious idiot with annoyingly perfect hair and an annoyingly perfect body and an annoyingly perfect face.

When he was finished he averted his eyes from in front of the TV and said he was going out for some air. He grabbed his jumper from the kitchen chair and hurried towards his front door, listening to the stupid lovey-dovey music and trying not to imagine what his best friends looked like dancing together. He slammed the door behind him and sank down the wall, his head in his hands.

Being in love was so painful he could honestly feel his chest being ripped to shreds. Hermione was so sodding beautiful and so sodding stupid he wanted to go inside and shake her. She wasn't the Hermione he knew anymore. She wasn't observant or plucky, she didn't stand up for herself properly, she never even whacked his arm anymore when he was being immature, or laughed at his jokes that he got from the wrappers of Penguin biscuits.

He didn't know her anymore, and God it killed him.

He went back inside after half an hour, to find Ron and Hermione snogging on the settee and that they hadn't noticed he'd gone. He walked into his bedroom and locked the door with a charm Hermione had once taught him, and Silencing the room so they couldn't hear him bawl.

He yelled and sobbed and threw things and punched the wardrobe and when he was done his head hurt and his fists hurt and his chest still ached and his throat was burning from all the shouting. He curled up in a ball and tried to ignore the moans and groans and swearing coming from Ron's room.

He cried silently for three hours and when it was midnight he could barely see to get into his pyjamas and climb under the covers.

* * *

_He tried to stop kissing her but his mouth had been taken over by his hormones and his male instincts and he wanted her so, so much._

_Her breath was hot inside his mouth and her hands were grasping at his t-shirt and hers was somewhere across the room and his glasses had been knocked off the bed and probably broken but he didn't care. His hands were on her chest and in between her legs and he could barely breathe. _

_Somewhere in this she had managed to undo his belt and slide his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. He moved his hands to her hips and pushed her pyjama bottoms and knickers down and off her feet. He knew what she wanted to do, and they did it. It was hot and sweaty and painful to begin with, but then it didn't hurt anymore and she was muffling her cries in his neck and he was desperately trying to hold out but he wasn't going to last much longer..._

Harry shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his face and the mattress beneath him very sticky and wet. He swore quietly and fumbled for his glasses and wand, not bothering to turn on the bedside lamp. When he had his round glasses in place, and he'd Scourgified the mess on his bed, he checked his watch – 6am. He groaned quietly and got up, heading towards the wardrobe. He needed a shower, badly.

When he was eating porridge in the kitchen half an hour later, Ron appeared, bleary-eyed and sporting his Quidditch jumper and striped bottoms.

'Morning,' he mumbled, heading for the fridge. 'Sleep well?'

'No, not really.' Harry replied moodily. 'Someone was having a shag next door.'

'Who was it? Pete?' Ron asked, drinking milk straight out of the carton.

Harry pulled on his jacket and trainers. 'No. It was my best mates.'

He sent a glare in Ron's direction, and Disapparated. He registered Ron's shocked and embarrassed expression before oblivion swallowed him up and he landed in the Ministry atrium, ready to face another day at work.

* * *

When Harry had a break and he was eating his ham sandwich in his office with his feet on the desk, Luna paid him a visit. She drifted in at about half one, twirling a lock of her dirty blonde hair round her finger.

'Hello, Harry. I haven't seen you for a while.'

'Hi, Luna.' Harry swung his feet to the ground and conjured a chair for her to sit on. She perched on the edge, studying a photo he had of him, Ron, Hermione, her, Neville and Ginny that had been taken on their last day at Hogwarts. 'How have you been?'

'Oh, I've been all right,' Luna replied. 'You haven't, though.'

'Not really, no.' Harry agreed, fingering his wand.

'I know what's been going on,' Luna said suddenly. 'I understand, because Ronald's always been special to me, I suppose.'

Harry realised then that Luna was in love with Ron. He reached out and patted her shoulder.

'Do you ever think he'll be _my_ Ron again?' Luna whispered. 'Not selfish or obnoxious or arrogant?'

Harry sighed. 'I don't know. I hope so. I miss Hermione too.'

Luna smiled slightly and then said she had to go, because they'd spotted a Crumple-Horned Snorcack and she didn't want to miss it.

'Have fun in Sweden!' Harry called after her. She turned and gave him a slow salute, and Harry felt a surge of affection for her. Luna was so lovely, and nobody really understood her.

Harry put his legs up on his desk again and continued to munch on his sandwich.

* * *

When he got home later Ron was pacing in front of the settee, his brow furrowed and his arms folded. Harry slowly dropped his bag and hung up his jacket, not sure what to say or do. Ron spotted him and they watched each other, the silence becoming deafening.

_Names long forgotten, he looks at her and her eyes are so bright he swears he'll be blinded. He can't stop looking at her, and everything goes in slow motion. The moment passes and then he collapses, panting, and she whimpers as she reaches her edge-_

'I don't get it.'

'What?' Harry said, not comprehending.

'What I said. What was different about this time?'

'Well,' Harry said, faking a person deep in thought, and tapped his chin with his finger. 'You continue to act like I don't exist and Hermione isn't Hermione anymore.'

'What the hell?'

'I was outside for half an hour and you didn't even notice. You just danced and snogged and then shagged. Not one single thought about me.'

'Look, we're together now-'

'And this is, what, the eighth time?'

'-and she's damn good-looking and what do you expect?' Ron shook his head. 'Look, mate, if you're going to act like a six-year-old just because you haven't got a girlfriend, then-'

'You think I'm jealous of _that_?' Harry yelled. 'Bloody hell, we're not even friends anymore. You act like such a wanker nowadays. I don't want just some girl. If you were really my friend you would know why I'm angry.'

'Fuck off. And what the hell were you saying about Hermione not being Hermione anymore, anyway?'

'Her hair's straight, she never reads books anymore, the Hermione I know would never be as girly as she is now, and she would have never shut me out like she does now. I bloody miss her. I miss the Hermione that stuck by me and yelled at me for not doing homework and always believed in me. I miss the girl that was right there when I killed Voldemort. I miss her and God, I love her.'

'You trying to steal my woman?'

'She doesn't deserve you! And stop taking my shirts!'

'You don't mind!'

'I do, but as I said, you don't notice!'

BANG.

Harry and Ron were thrown backwards by an explosion that hurt Harry's ears. When the smoke cleared Hermione was standing there, her expression murderous.

'Hi, babe,' Ron said, coughing a little. 'Didn't see you there.'

'Get up. Both of you.' Hermione pointed her wand at them, her tone crisp and cold. Harry clambered to his feet quickly, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a nasty hex.

'Herms, what-'

'I told you _not to call me that_.' Hermione shot back at Ron, who immediately stepped back.

'Hermione, when did you get here?' Harry asked her timidly.

'I was here long enough.' She replied, not looking at him, her eyes still fixed on Ron's. Harry blanched. Oh, fuck, she heard him.

Ron went a similar shade of red to his hair.

'_Damn good looking_, eh?' Hermione snapped. 'I've been used over and over again and you never cared about my feelings, did you?'

'What? Course I did-'

_Backs arching, eyes squeezing shut, necks bitten, hips moving, breath coming in gasps, again and again-_

'No! You never did, and you made me forget everything!' Hermione bawled at him. 'I hate my hair! I can't live without my books. I can't believe I keep falling for you and your attitude!'

'Babe, I know I'm buff, but-'

'Don't you _babe _me, mister.' Hermione narrowed her eyes at her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend.

'Sorry. God, you just looked better without the bush on your head and your nose in a book.' Ron replied, shaking his head. Harry's fists clenched, but before he could leap at Ron Hermione punched Ron in the nose. Ron stumbled and his nose began to bleed.

'Don't underestimate me, Ronald Billius Weasley.' Hermione said quietly, her tone venomous. 'I can beat the crap out of you any time I want.'

Harry could have kissed her.

Ron hurried into their bathroom, leaving Harry alone with Hermione. She turned and there was a satisfied smirk on her face.

'Will you come with me to Ginny's? I want her to curl my hair.'

'Of course. Great punch, by the way.'

'It felt good. Harry?'

'Yeah?'

'Your shirts look better on you,' she said, before she grabbed his arms and kissed him.

* * *

**A/N: **God, this took me SO LONG to do. But I hope you liked it. Remember, reviews are love!


End file.
